


All The Love In The World

by Thorntonsheart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Complete, First Time Bottoming, Gift Giving, M/M, Oral Sex, hot love, with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorntonsheart/pseuds/Thorntonsheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John chokes back a sob but loses the battle against the tears that have been threatening to spill over during Sherlock's heartfelt speech.  With great care, he puts the portrait onto his side-table before gently placing his hands on either side of Sherlock's face, tenderly cradling it.  He draws him up towards him, staring into his eyes for a long moment, willing Sherlock to understand just how much he truly means to him.  Sherlock looks on, wide-eyed, before taking a sudden breath and surging up to meet John's lips with his own.  The kiss is wet, inelegant and ....... the best they've ever had.  Neither man is trying to lock away the true depths of their feelings anymore.  Both now know that their vulnerabilities and strengths are treasured by the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Love In The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwassoalone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwassoalone/gifts).



> This is a story I wrote especially for the lovely Iwassoalone to celebrate her birthday! I really hope she loves it! I had the good luck of meeting her in reality yesterday and we spent a wonderful day exploring Cardiff together. It is just further proof that this fandom produces wonderful things! Thank you for your friendship my lovely, I can't believe it's not even a year yet! 
> 
> As ever this piece of work was beta'd by the multi-talented Lockedinjohnlock, thank you!
> 
> Huge, huge thanks to Lockedinjohnlock for her help in trying to get the picture in and to Thymelady for actually getting it to work! A very, very patient and kind person indeed!

Pace, pace, pace, pace. Throw self into armchair. Leap out. Pace, pace, pace, pace. Stare blindly out of window. Pace, pace, pace, pace. Flounce into bedroom. Pace, pace, pace, pace. Flounce out of bedroom. Pace, pace, pace, pace. Throw self, face down, onto the sofa. Twitch and moan.

"Damn it, Sherlock. What on earth has got your knickers in such a twist?"

"As you know full well, John Watson, I don't wear knickers. What an imbecilic comment." Sherlock growls his vitriol into the back of the sofa but John hears enough to know now would be a good time to make a swift exit and get some air.

"Right. I'm going out. Work through whatever is causing this. Call me if you need me. I am not staying in the same room as you if you're going to do a stunning impression of a bloody Rottweiler chewing on a bumble bee!" John huffs out, standing to pull his jacket (none too gently) from the coat hook.

His progress is arrested when two strong arms wrap around his middle, effectively pinning his arms to his sides and halting his exit. A cold nose nuzzles into the nape of his neck and John shivers at the touch, his aggravation at Sherlock beginning to melt away.

"John?" Curiosity rife in Sherlock's voice. "Why would a Rottweiler do that? Chew a bumble bee? It would anger the bee and cause the dog to be stung, thus killing the bee. The dog would be hurt and whining, not angry or sulking - not that I was sulking!" Sherlock hastily adds when he feels John inhaling, ready to interrupt. "And the bee, an innocent bystander, would be dead. I really think you should think of better analogies."

"You're right, love. It's a silly analogy." John knows when to battle on in an argument and when to give in. He also knows when Sherlock is trying to keep the focus off himself and his erratic behaviour. Today, of all days, it's not going to work.

He wriggles in Sherlock's grip until they are facing each other, slipping his arms around the slender man before him. Pushing himself up on tiptoes he presses a kiss to the full lips forming a, frankly delightful, pout, right before him.

"Right, Sherlock, out with it. What's wrong? You were in a great mood when we got up this morning, buzzing around the flat bare arsed, only the smallest amount of dressing gown protecting your modesty. What changed?"

John had thoroughly enjoyed the flashes of pale flesh and dark hair he had seen when Sherlock had been moving around the flat this morning, privately lamenting the fact when Sherlock had got dressed. Although, he has to admit, the ever-so-slightly too-tight shirt and fitted trousers have always been a firm favourite. All elegant lines and hints of what lies hidden beneath.

Sherlock shifts his focus until he is staring somewhere over John's left shoulder; his arms remain linked around John's waist but John can feel the tension in the long limbs. For a moment he thinks Sherlock isn't going to answer him, watching as he chews on his lower lip. Finally, Sherlock makes brief eye-contact and obviously steels himself for a serious conversation.

"It's been over a year since you moved back into Baker Street. Approximately six months ago you kissed me and told me you loved me." Sherlock takes a deep breath before mumbling. "Six months to the day, in fact. It was 11:07 am and we had no case work on. The day had been quiet, uneventful and you walked over to my chair, put your hand on my face and told me you loved me. Moments later you kissed me."

"I remember, love." John answers, a small smile playing at his lips, aware, now, of where this conversation is heading. "I wasn't sure you did."

"Of course I do, you ridiculous man!" And we're back to the insults, John thinks, his smile growing more obvious.

"Of course you do." John murmurs, resisting the temptation to nuzzle into Sherlock's long neck. "Did you think I'd forgotten? I hadn't. I never will."

"Then why didn't you say something? Do something?" Sherlock almost whines, frustration apparent in the way his fingers are now digging into John's waist.

"Because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or smothered, or worried that you'd messed up somehow. I know relationships are a new area and I didn't want to put pressure on you." John trails his fingers over the small of Sherlock's back, enjoying the sensation of body heat through thin cotton against his fingertips.

"You're an idiot, John." John sees the corner of Sherlock's mouth twitch up, the start of a begrudging smile.

"I love you too, Sherlock." He pulls Sherlock in closer against him, sighing when he feels strong arms hold him more tightly. He rests his head against Sherlock's chest, listening to the reassuring thump of Sherlock's heart. John wriggles slightly when he feels a hard chin rest on top of his head before allowing himself to relax once more in Sherlock's embrace. "I'm sorry, love. I should have realised, next anniversary I'll smother you with gifts."

He feels Sherlock's chin rub against his hair as Sherlock shakes his head. "No, it's not necessary. I just ..... " John can feel Sherlock's chest rise beneath his cheek, feel the way the exhalation of air moves the strands of his hair. "I thought you'd forgotten. I just needed to know that it means as much to you as it does to me."

John realises anew how very far they've come together. Talking about their feelings is still hard but they both make a determined effort now. Of course, they still fail, as evidenced by today's debacle, but they can now work through any fall-out together.

"It does. It really does. I know I don't say it as much as I probably should, Sherlock, but you are my everything. You make me whole, you keep me safe, you give me excitement; you make me complete." He pulls back to look at Sherlock's face, the expression he sees there takes his breath away. Sherlock has always been a uniquely good looking man but when he allows his softer emotions to show through, he is beautiful.

"John..." Sherlock's focus flicks from John to the sofa and back again, a rare look of indecision on his face. "I got you a present. I can leave it for another time if you wish or you can have it now. It's not meant to be given with any expectation of anything in return, it's just something I thought you might like."

"You ... You got me a present?" This is the last thing he expects, he had hoped for maybe a day without noxious fumes in the flat or doing something they could enjoy together; a case, a quiet night in, mind-blowing sex; he'd have been up for any of it.

"Well, I say got......" Sherlock steps away from John and immediately John feels the loss, wanting to draw Sherlock back into his embrace. "It would be more accurate to say I made something for you." Sherlock chews his lip and John feels a brief moment of panic, what could his madman have done? "An acquaintance helped with the first part but the finished product is all my own work." Sherlock glances again to the sofa.

"Can I see it, love?" John keeps his words hushed, trying not to spook an unusually unsure Sherlock into bolting. Slowly, he moves back until he is seated in his chair, his eyes flicking between Sherlock and where he guesses his present is hidden behind the sofa.

Sherlock nods briefly before stepping up to the sofa and reaching one long arm behind it to retrieve a package. It's not very large - John estimates about the size of A4 and wonders whether Sherlock has made him a journal to keep a record of their adventures in. The wrapping paper is embossed black and similar to their wallpaper. Briefly, John thinks that Sherlock has removed some of their wallpaper to wrap the gift before pushing the uncharitable thought away. The present is sleek and well-wrapped and just begging for John to get inside - he fights back a snigger at the thought that that's precisely how he feels about Sherlock.

Sherlock walks slowly over to John, his gaze fixed upon the gift in his hands. He stands before John for a long moment, apprehension clear on his face before silently handing the gift over. The moment John takes it Sherlock sinks to the floor and rests his head on John's thigh, effectively hiding his face.

John wants nothing more than to just tear the wrapping away from the gift in his hand but decides to savour the moment instead, who knows when he might next receive something so unexpected. The parcel is surprisingly light and flexible, not a notebook then. Perhaps a page from a medical report? Something that states that Sherlock is clean and in good health, that they can continue their sexual discovery without the need for condoms? He knows it's not a birth certificate, Sherlock already possesses his and John has seen Sherlock's (William!). It's certainly not a marriage certificate, John is (almost) 100% certain he would remember a moment like that. If they were ever to marry it would be the crowning glory of his life and he'd want to remember every single second of such a day.

With great care, John peels away the Sellotape, scrunching it into a small ball and placing it on the table by his chair before returning both hands to the item in front of him. Slowly, he opens the paper, letting the moment of reveal draw out. It looks to be a drawing; part of a man's naked shoulder comes into view followed by the curl and flick of hair that he instantly recognises as Sherlock's. Holding his breath, John reveals the rest of the portrait. It's of a shirtless Sherlock, a simple rendering in charcoal. The drawing stops just above Sherlock's nipples but John is struck by how naked and open this Sherlock is. It's not the lack of clothing that is providing the nakedness, rather the expression on the portrait's face. Sherlock looks guileless; an innocence and vulnerability apparent that not many people are permitted to see. This is the real Sherlock, the uncovered man drawn in swift strokes and smudged shading and the man currently hiding his face against John's leg, worried how the baring of his soul will be received.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Oh my god." John breathes, fingers trembling and making the portrait shake. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful. I love it." John runs the fingers of his free hand through the shaggy curls of the man who has come to mean the world to him. "I love you."

For long moments the two men sit in quiet contemplation, John staring at the portrait and running his fingers through Sherlock's hair, Sherlock savouring the sensation and breathing deep, calming his racing emotions.

"I'm glad you like it, John. It seemed a bit conceited in a way, but I remembered you saying that you had been worried you'd forget what I looked like when I was 'away' , that you didn't have many photographs. Generally I look dreadful in photographs, far too aware of being dissected by the lens. I have an acquaintance from a case from before I met you and she agreed to take a series of photos." Sherlock tilts his head up to meet John's gaze, bright blue eyes unwavering.

"Did you keep any of the photographs?" John asks.

A brief shake of his head in negation causes Sherlock's curls to rub against the seam of John's trousers. "Not many. In most I looked like a waxwork, frozen and lifeless. But, in some, Jacqueline managed to tease out something more honest. She knew why I wanted the photos done and she told me to think about our time together, all of our time. Not just since we became lovers, but the moments before. The moments when I was so happy I thought I would burst, the moments when I thought I'd lost you forever and the moments when I needed you so much it physically hurt. This image is an amalgamation of the expressions from a few of those photos." Sherlock takes a deep breath and rubs his nose against the firm muscle of John's thigh. "I know I can be myself around you and that you'll still love me. That I can allow my vulnerabilities to show and you won't leave me to flounder. That's what this is. I'm giving myself to you, at my most vulnerable, knowing that I can trust you to remain with me - that I don't always need to be strong. It took me a long time to realise that and I nearly lost you so many times, but I know - now - that I'm safe to be human with you."

John chokes back a sob but loses the battle against the tears that have been threatening to spill over during Sherlock's heartfelt speech. With great care, he puts the portrait onto his side-table before gently placing his hands on either side of Sherlock's face, tenderly cradling it. He draws him up towards him, staring into his eyes for a long moment, willing Sherlock to understand just how much he truly means to him. Sherlock looks on, wide-eyed, before taking a sudden breath and surging up to meet John's lips with his own. The kiss is wet, inelegant and ....... the best they've ever had. Neither man is trying to lock away the true depths of their feelings anymore. Both now know that their vulnerabilities and strengths are treasured by the other.

"Bed. Take me to bed, Sherlock." John manages to gasp out between kisses. His legs are trembling and his blood is humming. "Make love to me."

Sherlock draws back, blinking rapidly, his chest heaving. John allows him time to process his words, knowing that they are unexpected and that Sherlock tends to 'overload' when surprised, emotionally. Finally his patience pays off and Sherlock meets his eyes briefly before frantically flicking his focus all over John, trying to read the truth of his words.

"But......" Sherlock's eyes flash again to read John's face, his brows furrowed. "But... You said.... Before... You said ....." Sherlock shakes his head in frustration at his inability to say what he means.

"I know. I know what I said. I wasn't ready." John looks deeply into Sherlock's eyes, willing him to know what has been left unsaid, even as a deep blush colours his cheeks.

Sherlock's lips shape over a silent 'Oh!' And John nods, knowing that Sherlock understands. "But you are now." It's a statement, not a question.

"I am now," he confirms, standing and pulling Sherlock up bedside him. John wraps his arms around his lover and breathes deep, savouring the scent of Sherlock. He kisses where the skin shows at the opening of Sherlock's shirt, flicking his tongue into the dip there, tasting him. "I want to feel you inside me, Sherlock. I want us to make love and then I want to spend the rest of the day wrapped in your arms, only moving so that we can make love again. How does that sound?"

A barely intelligible sound leaves Sherlock but John knows from the way Sherlock is suddenly (and very determinedly) dragging him into their bedroom that Sherlock agrees wholeheartedly with the idea. John casts one more look at the charcoal portrait before allowing himself to be pulled along in Sherlock's wake.

They make short work of stripping each other naked, clothes a tangled pile on the floor as they advance towards the bed, lips barely leaving the surface of the other man's skin, bodies angling to prolong the contact. They've made love in so many ways in their short time together as a couple. Sometimes slow and leisurely, sometimes fast and frantic, sometimes their orgasms brought about by hands, sometimes by mouths and sometimes by John thrusting deep inside Sherlock but never have they tried it with Sherlock inside John. They've discussed it in calm moments after their climaxes but it wasn't something that John had felt overly inclined to try and neither man felt as if anything were lacking. They took turns leading and being lead, no words were needed to decide who did what to whom, they followed their passions and their partner's responses, working perfectly together.

Today it is different. Today John wants to feel Sherlock, wants to know what the moment of Sherlock's climax feels like whilst he is wrapped around him. John lies back on the bed, drawing Sherlock with him until he is pressing down against John's body, long legs slotted between John's own. Their erections are touching, their glide already slightly eased by their pre-ejaculate. Their kisses are now deep and lingering, a pre-cursor to the type of love they will make. Sherlock briefly breaks the kiss to stretch across and get the lube they always keep in the top drawer of their bedside cabinet. The move puts his chest over John's face and John seizes the opportunity to tease Sherlock. He licks at the nipple that is a tantalising centimetre above his lips, Sherlock jerks in reaction, always so sensitive here. John grins and begins licking and nipping in earnest, his palm flat on Sherlock's back, easing him closer. Sherlock groans and bucks against him, each caress driving him closer to the edge.

"John .... John." Sherlock gasps. "It's too much, it'll be over too soon if you don't stop." John smiles and sucks the pert nipple firmly before letting it slide out. "Oh god." Sherlock sags against John before covering his lips with his own, making the kiss deep and intimate straight away.

John can feel the heat and hardness of Sherlock's erection as it slides against his and he doesn't want to wait anymore to feel it inside him. Without breaking the kiss he thrusts a pillow under his hips, easily lifting Sherlock's body weight as he does so. Sherlock sighs against his lips, tilting his hips so that he fits more comfortably between John's legs.

"You want to do it this way?" Sherlock queries, the words spoken almost directly into John's skin.

"Yeah." John pushes his hands into Sherlock's wayward curls, easing Sherlock's head back a little so he can look directly into his eyes. "I want to see your face when you enter me and I want you to see mine, to know how much I love you."

Maintaining eye contact, John reaches for where Sherlock has dropped the lube on their pillow, pulling at Sherlock's arm until their fingers are both wrapped around the slim bottle. Sherlock understands what John wants and moves his hand until his fingers are under the nozzle, the cool fluid drizzling over them as John depresses the button. Sherlock shifts minutely against John to allow himself to position his fingers against John's entrance. They've done this much before, Sherlock gently teasing his rim as John groans and sighs beneath him, eventually sliding in one long, dexterous finger and coaxing John into a shivering climax with clever touches against his prostate. This time Sherlock gently strokes the tightly furled hole, sighing against John's lips before sliding down John's body, nipping and licking as he goes. Finally, he takes the head of John's cock into his mouth, teasing it with soft, strong lips and an eager tongue, sliding his finger inside John's entrance whilst John pants with pleasure.

Sherlock takes his time teasing John, slow slides of his finger accompanied by sucks and licks at the top of his cock. He slides further down John's cock and adds a second finger inside John. John barely feels the added stretch, drowning in sensation, unsure whether to thrust down onto Sherlock's fingers or up into his mouth. He ends up wriggling between the two, cursing when Sherlock doesn't take him any deeper or add more fingers. Sweat is beading on John's forehead and his hands are clenched in the sheets, his body tensing and relaxing with each thrust and pull. He can't believe they've never gone this far before, the sensation is sublime and Sherlock knows just how to play him to keep him on the very edge of ecstasy without tipping over. John releases one hand from where it is pulling at the bedclothes and rests it on the back of Sherlock's head, he doesn't press or direct, just plays with the soft hair he feels beneath his fingers, enjoying the way he can feel Sherlock's head moving against him. Sherlock takes him deeper, sliding a third finger inside at the same time. John cries out at the added pleasure and fights against the temptation to pull at Sherlock's hair. He rides the waves of ecstasy as Sherlock expertly plays him, long fingers stretching and teasing him, tongue and lips speaking a language he obeys without question.

"Sherlock, please...." John begs, words almost beyond him now. Sherlock pulls off slowly and John moans at the loss of his intimate heat. Gently Sherlock eases his fingers out of John, applying more lube to them before gently sliding back in, ensuring that John is well prepared for what is to come.

Sherlock places his clean hand on John's cheek, urging John to focus on him. "I got notification from the clinic, John. We're both clean. We don't need to use condoms unless you wish to."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, for John to realise their importance but then he pulls Sherlock down and kisses him passionately, pausing only to speak. "No condoms, just your flesh against my flesh, now and for always." It sounds like a wedding promise and both men are happy with the implication.

Sherlock pumps more lube onto his palm, smoothing it over his straining penis. Hissing slightly at the temperature change and the sensation against his over-heated skin, he gently positions John, legs wide, hips tilted, knees bent up to his body. John feels laid open and loves every second of it. Sherlock positions himself at John's entrance and looks deeply into John's eyes as he pushes himself slowly forward. He slides in with ease, the tight grip of John against him providing erotic friction but no pain for John, the long preparation paying off. John moans and sighs as Sherlock slides further into him, the sensation unlike any he has ever known, he feels full but not uncomfortably so. He can feel Sherlock throb inside him and he groans loudly, hands on Sherlock's backside, urging him to move.

"I need a moment, John." Sherlock's voice sounds broken, overwhelmed. "It's so much _more_ than I expected. Jesus Christ, John, you're ....... It's ........ Phenomenal." John grins; trust Sherlock to still be able to come up with words like phenomenal when John is barely managing to remember how to breathe!

Finally, Sherlock pulls out a little before sliding in a little more forcefully. The move startles a gasp from both men. Sherlock adjusts his position, taking more weight on his arms, angling so that his body moves against John's leaking erection on each thrust. Slowly, he begins to move inside John, deep slides in and slow glides out, teasing touches over John's prostate. Each thrust causes John to dig his fingertips deeper into the firm flesh of Sherlock's arse, feeling the way the muscles flex with each movement.

"More. Harder." John demands, shouting when Sherlock complies. Their sweat makes the glide between their bodies easy and John can feel the way Sherlock is trembling as he moves, each firm thrust pushing John further up the bed. He yelps when his head hits the headboard, laughing when they awkwardly shuffle back down the bed, still joined. John lets go of Sherlock's arse and braces his palms against the headboard, wrapping his legs around Sherlock he flexes his muscles, encouraging Sherlock to go deeper, faster. Sherlock is thrusting in rapidly now, each stroke brushing his prostate causing John to cry out in exulted bliss. He can feel his climax racing upon him and meets Sherlock's mouth in a sloppy kiss, breath coming out in pants against his lips.

Three more deep thrusts and John crests, his orgasm breaking over him. He can feel the hot wetness of his semen as it pools between them, his cock trying to twitch out more on each thrust. Sherlock thrusts deeply before stilling and calling out John's name. He thrusts weakly twice more before collapsing onto John, his breathing fast and hard against John's neck.

"Oh fuck. Oh holy fuck." It's not eloquent but John can tell from the way that Sherlock is nuzzling into his neck that he is taking it as the praise it is intended to be.

They lie entwined for long minutes, John running his hands over the exquisite length of Sherlock's damp back, Sherlock with his arms slipped under John, holding him tight. Eventually they move apart and John grimaces slightly at the sudden rush of fluid as Sherlock slips out before drawing him in for a kiss. It's slow and loving, nothing more than a simple slide of lips and utterly perfect. John knows they should shower, or at least have a quick wipe down but he's loathe to leave their bed. Sherlock obviously feels the same way as he wriggles until he can flip the duvet over them, snuggling back in against John.

"Happy Anniversary, Sherlock." John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss into the curly hair of his lover.

"Happy Half Anniversary, John." Sherlock lightly corrects, kissing against John's chest. "Did you truly like the picture?"

"I did, it's beautiful. Did you draw it?" John queries, tilting Sherlock's head up so he can meet his eye. He can see the blush on Sherlock's cheeks, feel the way he tries to move away. John realises that Sherlock is embarrassed and tenderly kisses his forehead.

"I did. I drew it whilst you were out, either at the clinic or at the pub with Lestrade."

"You drew it? For me? Just when I think I couldn't love you any more, you go and prove me wrong." John pulls Sherlock in for a deep kiss, his arms tight around him. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Sherlock arranges himself so he is once again curled against John's body, his head resting on John's chest. "You are more than welcome. As always." He strokes one large hand down John's body, stopping at John's flaccid cock. Tenderly, Sherlock takes John in his hand, he doesn't try to get a reaction from John, just holds him loosely in his palm like he is something to be treasured. "Now, stop talking and go to sleep. You promised me a day in bed and lots of sex. I aim to keep you to that promise."

John sniggers even as his eyes fall closed. Today is going to be a very good day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fingers crossed the picture works! The drawing is by me!
> 
> Iwassoalone hopefully you recognise the piece of art that this story was written around!


End file.
